Less Guts, More Glory
by Purtail
Summary: Nathan Drake is not just a legend, but a hero. And that heroism extends to everyone - even an idiot pinned under the same treasure he was hellbent on claiming.


**Less Guts, More Glory**

 **Summary:** Nathan Drake is not just a legend, but a hero. And that heroism extends to everyone - even an idiot pinned under the same treasure he was hellbent on claiming.

 **Rating:** T

 **Notes:** I swear I haven't given up on my other fics, but listen - LISTEN… Uncharted 4. I had to buy it for Rafe. And I knew he died at the end, but it's nothing a fanfiction can't fix. ;)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the Uncharted series.

* * *

"Don't _hand_ it to me - I've had _everything_ handed to me on a goddamn silver platter. _**Everything except this**_!"

His sword now lying in two pieces on the floor, Nathan Drake dared to lift his gaze, glaring daggers at the man who had him sprawled out on the floor of Avery's ship. This was the maniac, the _madman_ he once considered an ally; was it any surprise how they ended up in these positions? Sadly, Nathan knew from the moment he watched the brat murder the prison guard that Rafe would do _anything_ \- sacrifice _anyone_ \- to get what he wanted.

It had only been a question of _when_ , not _if_ , things would crumble and turn them against each other. Like the ticking of a clock, the partnership of Rafe Adler and the Drake brothers ended naturally, and their paths spread out into forked roads they could never return from. Both Sam and Nathan himself had burnt their bridges, separating their lives and goals from that of Rafe.

Or so Nathan would've liked to think; Sam's ambitions were way too close to the maniac's to make the difference between them easily spottable.

But it was difficult to think of all that, to ponder how he would get back the brother that had taken care of him growing up, when a blade was currently aimed against his jugular. He swallowed thickly, feeling the sword press closer to his skin as beads of sweat trickled down onto the steel.

Words escaped him, his mind desperately churning for a way to get out of this situation, to somehow gain the advantage again, or to _fight back_ at the very least...

"I earned this," Rafe whispered breathlessly, his face lit and shadowed by the surrounding flames. His eyes were all the colors of greed, pride, and envy mixed together; it was clear his mind was in a completely different state, caught up in the same 'delusions of grandeur' he accused Nathan of chasing. " _All_ of it."

Spotting a pile of treasure dangling above Rafe in a net, Nathan's mind made a quick connection and his hand clutched around the handle of his sword. "You want the treasure, Rafe?" Nathan asked, a small, anxious grin spreading across his lips. "It's all yours."

And as quickly as possible, he severed the rope hoisting the net up and watched Rafe look up in distraction. Nathan swiftly rolled out of the way, hearing the sound of the rope unraveling. It was a shrill buzzing noise, absolutely grating on the ears. Of course, earsplitting sounds were the _least_ of Rafe's problems, but the other man could only stand there, gaze fixed upwards at his visible doom.

Something must have connected with him at the last second, as Rafe's body tapped into reflexes and moved slightly out of the way of the treasure. There was a lot more than it looked like in the net, however, and the heaviest of the objects caught him below the waist. With a cry of agony - a much more horrible sound than the rope, Nathan noted - the man fell, pinned down by his legs.

Rafe coughed from the dust of the old relics surrounding him, scrabbling with his arms to try to pull himself from the wreckage. His upper torso seemed unharmed for the most part, but his expression was both pained and panicked as his head whipped from side to side, searching for a way to escape.

"I- I can't move. Shit, shit, _shit_ ," the man mumbled to himself, trying again in vain to drag himself out. His eyes met Nathan's, who could only watch in horror as he witnessed his enemy's raw despair firsthand.

But surprisingly, Rafe didn't beg or ask for help. After he realized what had happened to him, once he seemed to _get_ that he wasn't going anywhere, there was an unfamiliar emotion that settled in his eyes. The initial instinctive panic died away, leaving behind an almost empty _acceptance_ of what was to come. Nathan decided instantly that he didn't like that look of clear defeat, of submission - of a person completely ready to die.

It just wasn't a look that _fit_ someone like Rafe Adler.

"Oh, what _irony_. I'm going to die under the very treasure I spent _years_ chasing," Rafe mumbled to himself, his mind clearly going elsewhere. Nathan didn't have time to gawk at his foe, however, as the realization that Sam was still stuck under the floorboards hit him like… well, like a net of treasure.

He dashed over to his brother, trying to lift the large plank on top of him. "Hey, c'mon, let's get you out of here," Nathan murmured, trying to keep both Sam and himself calm. Things were going to be okay, they _needed_ to be okay - they would get out of here if he could only lift this _goddamn piece of wood…_

Sam attempted to raise it off himself, as well, giving a long grunt of effort. "I'm trying. It's too heavy," he wheezed, his eyes screwed shut in exhaustion. "It's no use."

"Try again!" Nathan hissed, bracing himself and using the strength he could muster to bring the plank up, but he just couldn't. Even with them both trying, it wasn't working.

"It's no use," Sam repeated, his voice growing hoarse. "Nathan - listen to me, listen to me!" He grabbed his brother's shoulder, forcing eye contact and breathing heavily. "All I ever wanted to do was find this treasure with you."

Nathan shook his head, the stinging of tears forming behind his eyes. "No, shut up," he snapped, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Hey, we did it," Sam whispered, daring to flash a _smile_ Nathan's way, "We did it, little brother. Okay? It's all right."

"No, Sam- there's _gotta_ be-"

"Nathan, you gotta _go_!" The older brother shoved Nathan away, wearing the same goddamn _resigned_ look that Rafe had before. Sam _knew_ he was going to die, and he had somehow made peace with it.

Nathan couldn't ever imagine being _okay_ with his own demise, especially when it could have been prevented. But for some reason, both Sam and Rafe had come to terms with their fates, and just waited to die like _dogs_. It churned Nathan's stomach, frightened him in a way he wasn't familiar with. He'd almost lost Sam before, but it was nothing like this - nothing like watching Sam comply with what fate had in store for him, despite how defiant he usually was.

Was it just so much _easier_ for men who lived solely for discovery? Was death easier to accept for those with nothing to return back home to?

Well, Nathan just wasn't going to have that.

His mind churned again, quickly leafing through every nook and cranny of his brain for possible solutions. He had to save Sam - leaving him behind just wasn't an option - but he couldn't lift the wood pinning him down. What, then, could make the plank rise? It wasn't like he could suddenly turn off gravity…

It was then that Nathan realized his brother was still yelling to him. "The ship's about to blow up! You've gotta _go_!" Sam cried, his voice escalating to a frantic tone. " _Please_ , Nathan!"

Blow up.

 _That's it!_

Nathan jolted to life, the answer suddenly clear as day. He raced towards one of the cannons on the ship, passing Rafe and noting the guy was still trapped under the pile of treasure - except now, he was unconscious. Nathan let that mental notice dissolve away and positioned the cannon towards the floor.

"What are you _doing_?" Sam shrieked incredulously, still somehow able to be heard over the roaring of the flames.

"Just trust me! And get your head down!" Nathan called back, lighting a torch easily with the surrounding fire. Holding his breath, he quickly lit the cannon and dived away, the resulting explosion _way_ too close for comfort.

But luckily, the cannon had broken through the floor and, just as he'd hoped, seawater started to flood into the room. Nathan leapt to his feet, hurrying over to Sam as large puddles began forming on the creaky wooden floorboards.

The still-trapped man stared up at Nathan in horror, eyes wide and unfocused. Nathan merely bent down, his hands scraping against wet wood, and encouraged Sam to try again. As they grunted with effort, the rising water gave them an advantage; it loosened the hold it had on Sam ever-so-slightly and, with the resulting inches of extra room he had, he was able to wriggle free.

Sam stumbled to his feet, leaning onto Nathan and patting his brother on the back. "Quick thinking," he praised, trademark smirk on his lips. Nathan grinned back and tried to respond, but the water had caused a disruptive rumble, the fresh hole in the floor threatening to tear the ship apart. The water was piling up fast, soaking into Nathan's boots and up into the fabric of his pants.

"Shit," the younger brother mumbled, now up to his waist in the water. "We gotta get out of here." It was stating the obvious, and Nathan knew that Sam already knew it, but something made him say it all the same. His mind was foggy, dirty and clouded like the seawater currently trying to drown them.

Sam coughed, eyes tracking around the small space for an escape. "Hope you don't mind taking a little dip," he snarked, nodding towards the hole the cannon had blasted through the floor.

"Are you kidding? It's refreshing!" Nathan yelled back, the water level now just under his chest. The two waded their way over towards the hole, surely but steadily, but a sudden… _something_ stopped Nathan in his tracks. Not something physical, as he could get through the water easily enough, but a mental block that clamped onto him like vines, tendrils sinking deep into him and keeping him from moving forward.

 _No. No, no, no!_ He screamed at his mind, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he realized why he didn't want to leave - or at the very least, why he _subconsciously_ refused to keep going.

Of course he'd try to be the goddamn _savior_ in this situation, but couldn't his hero tendencies keep themselves quiet until _after_ he and his brother were out of mortal danger?

Damn it all.

"Sam, hold on," Nathan called out over the roaring water, a reluctant tone in his voice. Hesitantly, he dragged his gaze over towards the scattered treasure in the room, the pile that had fallen from the net still high enough out of the water to be seen. And underneath that pile was surely Rafe - though he had completely vanished from sight. Nathan swallowed hard, realizing that his enemy was still trapped under the treasure and was likely still unconscious, meaning he was as close to drowning as a person could get.

With a sigh, the younger Drake turned to his brother. "You're not gonna like this, but-"

"Don't say it, Nate!" Sam yelled back, shaking his head. "Don't _even_ say we need to grab that asshole!"

"Okay then, I won't say it." Nathan shot his brother a sheepish look with a shrug, unsure of what else to say aside from, "Just help me out?" Without waiting for an answer, Nathan trudged through the water towards the pile of treasure, holding his breath and dunking his head under the seawater.

Despite the loud torrents of water echoing in his ears, Nathan could somehow still hear Sam groan loudly nearby - or, perhaps he just imagined it. Either way, he could still see his brother following him underwater despite the elder Drake's obvious protests.

Sure enough, amongst the murky water and piles of century-old loot was the dark, unmoving body of Rafe. He was completely submerged and still pinned by his legs, the blood from his various wounds seeping around him like a faint, crimson aura. Nathan squinted through the saltwater to notice the faint bubbles leaving the unconscious man's mouth, indicating that Rafe was holding onto the last bits of his miserable life.

Damn it. Now that he had confirmation that Rafe was still alive, there was no other choice but to take him with them.

Suppressing a groan at the thought and snapping back to reality, he clutched onto Rafe's wrists and yanked the smaller man forward. Sam had swam to the treasure pile and started to knock over as much as he could in an attempt to get the heaviest pieces off of Rafe. With an echoed thud, the pieces fell straight through the old floorboards, splitting through antique wood that hadn't been touched in God-knew how long.

Luckily, the water had loosened the treasure's grip on Rafe just as it had with the wooden plank and Sam; whether they were tapping into the laws of physics or completely ignoring them, Nathan was grateful that his surroundings always worked with him when it came to his bullshit spontaneous ideas.

With a smirk to himself, Nathan felt his heart lift a bit when Rafe finally slipped forward. He wasted no time hauling the man above the water, noting that there was just a small pocket of air left for them to breathe before they had to get out.

Nathan held Rafe's head up the best he could, kicking at the man's legs lightly. "Breathe, asshole," he growled, squeezing Rafe's throat a bit with his fingers (as if that would somehow help).

It wasn't until Sam resurfaced with a loud gasp of breath did Rafe begin to cough, but even then, the sounds were little more than weak wheezes. Sam gave a questioning look to Nathan, but the younger Drake simply shrugged and argued that they didn't have time to wait around for Rafe to breathe. They all needed to get out of the ship _now_ or they'd go down with it.

"You ready, little brother?" Sam called out, the currents almost drowning out his voice.

"Let's go!" Nathan replied, sucking in a large gulp of air and plunging back down under the surface. He wound an arm around Rafe's torso to secure him, fingernails digging into the tattered black shirt as tightly as he could. Kicking his legs wildly, Nathan tried to direct the two of them with only one arm. He could only trust that Sam was right behind him as he twisted through the hole in the ship's floor.

The thought of air both tortured and energized him as he pumped his legs faster and faster away from the ship, trying to focus on the approaching surface and not on the piece of shit in his arms weighing him down. Just as he was sure his lungs would burst, his head broke through the surface of the water, gasping and greedily gulping in air.

He noticed Rafe was still unresponsive, but he didn't have time to worry about it - not with the ship behind them seconds from exploding into flames. Once Sam emerged from the water nearby, Nathan quickly regained his bearings.

"Just a little further! Don't look back - _keep going_!" Sam cried, already beginning to swim forward.

All they had to do was make it out of the cave, and the others would be waiting for them. Elena and Sully - and hopefully not Nadine - would have a getaway plane waiting, with smiles and blankets and first aid and _God_ Nathan needed all that right about now… He had to focus on that image, that very strong almost-reality burning into the back of his mind and fueling him with enough energy to keep going. He was exhausted, beyond exhausted now, but he had to keep going.

Everything would be _fine_ once they were out of this cave. They'd found and lost Avery's treasure, but no one had to die.

So despite the crippling possibility of death at his heels, he kept hauling Rafe's lifeless form through the water, cursing under his breath as he swallowed seawater. Behind them, he could hear the groans and moans of the ship as it collapsed, creating harsh waves that knocked Nathan around like he weighed nothing. But he kept going, kept regarding Sam's words and the images of safety in his mind.

As the water churned, the large rocks making up the cave began to crumble, threatening to seal them off from freedom forever. With an earsplitting crack, the ship's mast and sail fell into the water right above their heads, forcing Nathan to dive under once again.

At one point or another, Rafe had nearly slipped out of Nathan's grip, and he almost let him go. He _almost_ tapped into his self-preservation instincts and _almost_ let Rafe die right there - but he didn't. He hated the bastard, that was no secret, but abandoning people he didn't need anymore was Rafe's way.

And Nathan Drake was _not_ Rafe Adler.

So he kept his sights forward, towards the fading light of the outside world. The sun was shining so brightly, but the prospect of his loved ones waiting was warmer than any sunlight.

Nathan didn't stop thinking about that, not until he realized they were now outside the cave, and the brightness was blinding him. But they were _safe_ \- Sam was beside him now, and together they waded their way towards the nearby jungle.

"We made it. We - we actually _made_ it," Sam breathed, collapsing onto the grass once they reached land. "Holy _shit_."

With a wide smile, Nathan added a "Holy shit" of his own in agreement, and dragged both himself and Rafe out of the water and onto the rocks. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but it wasn't water and it wasn't _death_ , so Nathan considered it a win.

"How's he doing?" Sam asked between gasps, casting a quick glance over at his brother. "Not that I really care, but you wasted so much energy getting him here. He better be alive and kiss the ground you walk on, for all that trouble."

"Yeah." Nathan couldn't help but agree, though he didn't save Rafe to get a 'thank you' from the other man. He wasn't even sure Rafe knew those words.

After the younger Drake ran a hand down his face and shook off some water from his hair, he moved to inspect their fallen enemy beside him. Rafe's closed eyes were sunken in and he looked… well, to put it bluntly, he looked like a drowned rat. Drenched in seawater and covered in moss, mud, and blood, he was like a poor-quality painting by the world's shittiest artist. The wounds on his stomach and head had stopped bleeding for now, but there was still the possibility of infection from the seawater.

It was then that Nathan finally got a closer look at Rafe's legs - he hadn't had a chance to really examine them since the treasure fell, and a part of him wished he would've never gotten that chance.

Rafe's legs were bent at unnatural angles - shattered by the treasure, if the lumpy and swollen shapes were anything to go off of. His jeans were ripped and torn in various places, every inch of exposed skin bruised or bleeding.

The sight made Nathan's stomach churn, the grotesque image of his enemy's lower half twisted like a goddamn pretzel almost making him sick right then and there. But he held in the bile splashing the back of his throat and looked towards his brother.

"His legs look… well, it's not good," he reported, eyes downcast.

The older Drake blinked, mouth hovering open for a smartass reply, but chose instead to check on Rafe himself. Sucking in air through his teeth once he spotted the man's legs, Sam bent down and pressed his ear to Rafe's chest, closing his eyes in concentration.

"He's got a heartbeat, at least…" Sam murmured, holding Rafe's chin in his fingers and moving his neck from side to side. "Nothing looks broken above his waist."

Nathan quirked a brow curiously; it seemed that, despite Sam's hatred for Rafe, he was being awfully compassionate to the injured man. Then again, the two of them worked together for quite some time; at the very least, there was some familiarity between them that even Sam couldn't ignore.

Sam rolled Rafe to the side, smacking his back a little. This made Rafe cough up seawater and bile, the liquids trickling out of his mouth making a puddle beside him. Nathan scrunched his face in disgust, but at least Rafe seemed to be breathing more easily now. In fact, it almost looked like his eyes were moving behind the lids...

Oh, _shit_.

Immediately, Nathan moved to grab Sam and yanked his brother back, trying to keep him as far away from Rafe as possible. Sam looked ready to retort something in protest, but the faint, soft sound of groaning caught both of their attention.

Rafe's eyelids twitched more, eventually snapping open and revealing a clouded, hazel gaze. Blinking a few times, Rafe seemed to regain his bearings rather quickly, dragging his sight over to the brothers. His face was utterly expressionless - a very, very odd look on him. It wasn't even the suave, collected, I'm-better-than-you look he often wore, but a completely blank glance, as though he was looking through them.

Of course, that expression (or lack thereof) faded into one of anger and hatred only seconds later. Lips drawn into a snarl and eyes narrowed, Rafe looked like a predator cornering prey - only this time, he was the weakened one, and didn't seem to realize it yet.

"What the hell…" Rafe choked out, his voice sounding hoarse like he'd just swallowed sandpaper (and salty seawater probably wasn't too far off from that, honestly). He brought a hand up slowly towards his throat, wincing as his fingers kneaded the bruised skin. "Where am I?"

"Not on Avery's ship anymore, that's for sure," Nathan muttered, stepping closer towards their fallen foe.

Rafe simply scoffed, struggling to a sitting position with a groan and ran a hand through his tousled hair, water and blood dripping from his brow. He shot a dark glare to his saviors, disdain written all over his bruised and battered face.

"Don't give us that look," Sam tsked, like he was scolding a child. "Nate busted his ass getting you here. At least pretend to be grateful."

Rolling his eyes, Rafe merely sneered again, shaking his head with a small, humorless chuckle. Nathan didn't expect the little shit to feel indebted, of course, but the snarky attitude was something he didn't appreciate at the moment, especially considering what he went through to get the soggy bastard here. Then again, this was typical Rafe, who couldn't be sorry if his damn life depended on it.

"You're _welcome_ ," Nathan snapped, putting extra emphasis on it.

"And I was _just_ going to ask for your address for the thank you card," Rafe responded, lifting a hand to his chest and pretending to be offended with a slackjaw expression. "Now you'll get nothing."

Sam snorted, taking a few steps towards Rafe once he realized the man wasn't going to stand up anytime soon. "Yeah, sure. Keep talking out of your ass. See where it gets you."

"At the bottom of the ocean, perchance?" Rafe asked, tilting his head to the side in mock-innocence. "But the _legend_ Nathan Drake can't have his time wasted like that. You said it yourself, he busted his ass saving my life, for some reason."

"Yeah, well, if Nate doesn't throw you back, I will," Sam hissed, now looming over Rafe with a dark look in his eyes. That same expression had been on Sam's face back when he had his gun pressed against Nadine's temple - back when he'd had pulled the trigger without hesitation, and the bullet almost _went through a woman's skull_ in cold blood.

Before Sam could get any ideas, Nathan stepped in between the two. "Relax. No one's throwing anyone anywhere. Rafe, you're here now, so suck it up and deal with it." He extended a hand to the injured man, adding, "Come on, I'll help you walk."

Rafe raised his eyebrows in surprise, then let loose a bitter and detached chuckle. His hands shot up to cover his face as he continued to laugh and _laugh_ ; the noise was so hoarse and _strangled,_ it almost sounded like a sob.

Nathan had to do a double-take, confusion worming its way onto his face. He exchanged a glance with Sam, both of them wondering just why someone like Rafe was making a noise like that. But it seemed even the most composed of men could break, if pushed to a far enough point.

"You _idiots_ , put the pieces together like it's Avery's goddamn map," Rafe murmured, his voice lacking all of its usual venom. "I can't feel my legs."

A cold sensation dropped into the pit of Nathan's stomach, and his whole body felt numb for a few moments. The terrifying realization that he'd possibly crippled Rafe shot through him like electricity, and he found himself concerned for someone who really didn't deserve it.

"What, but- but _how_?" Nathan choked out, stunned that he hadn't put the pieces together sooner. Rafe's legs looked horrible, after all, his bones crushed and blood leaking in dark splotches through the black fabric of his pants.

"My legs. They look awful, Nate. I'm surprised you didn't notice before, as it was _you_ that crushed them with that clever net trick," Rafe sneered, though it was once again a half-hearted barb.

Now that Nathan got a closer look at him, Rafe himself looked terrible. His chest was heaving up and down in heavy pants, his face pale and his eyes glazed over. But despite being moments away from keeling over, he still met the Drakes' gazes with animosity, protecting his pride above all else.

 _Damn it, Rafe._

"It's not my fault," Nathan protested weakly, even though he definitely felt responsible. He'd meant to put an end to their swordfight after finding himself cornered, and wouldn't have shed any tears if the treasure had fully crushed Rafe.

But _paralyzing_ him?

Not even Rafe deserved that.

"Quit being dramatic. We all know you can walk," Sam chimed in, his voice snapping Nathan out of his thoughts. The older Drake leaned over and clamped a hand around Rafe's wrist, roughly yanking the smaller man upward.

Rafe's legs folded back, refusing to stand properly and almost crashing down again if not for Sam's hold on him. He let out a cry of pain, an agonized sound reminiscent of the noise he'd made back on the ship when the treasure had first pinned him.

In between quickened, panicked breaths, Rafe choked out, "L-let g-go of me, you piece of-"

"Sam, stop it!" Nathan hissed, stepping in immediately. Without hesitation, he slung Rafe's other wrist over his shoulder, and instructed his brother to do the same. With all three of them injured to different degrees, this was the only way they could walk towards the surrounding jungle to find Elena and Sully - Rafe in the middle, supported on both sides by the Drakes.

"Did I ask for your help?" Rafe demanded through heavy wheezes, his pained expression betraying his words. "Or is this all part of some grand ego stroke, Nate? Getting the brownie points for saving an enemy? The _glory_?"

God, he was starting to like Rafe better unconscious. Suppressing the urge to punch him in his rich-boy teeth, Nathan murmured, "Just shut up. Elena and Sully should be around here somewhere, and we're all getting off this stupid island."

" _Fantastic_. The whole _gang's_ back together, huh?" The words were dripping with hatred, Rafe clearly not fond of the idea of being around the whole Drake team.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Nathan replied, "Not that you'd know anything about groups and loyalty, would you, Rafe?"

Rafe chuckled again, his tone acrid as a dark gleam settled in his eyes. "Talk to your brother about that."

Silence fell on them for a few moments and they stopped walking, catching breaths and regaining composure. Nathan looked between the two men, searching for any hint of anything but hatred between them. It was clear there was something akin to a business-like partnership, but he couldn't place it. They were all enemies, and yet at the same time… they _weren't_.

Parting his cracked lips, Nathan said, "I don't give two shits anyway, we're getting you to a hospital - and hopefully we won't have to see you again after that." Nathan paused, knowing that he absolutely would see Rafe one way or another again - no amount of burnt bridges could change that. He swallowed hard and added more solemnly, "And for what it's worth, I didn't _want_ this to happen."

"Don't you _dare_ apologize to me," Rafe snapped instantly, his words a bit slurred. "I don't need your goddamn pity."

"Wouldn't dream of giving you anything," Nathan shot back, narrowing his eyes and shifting his grip on Rafe, watching the man cringe in pain as he did so. He'd assumed that grimace would bring him some sort of satisfaction, but it only made his stomach feel queasier. It wasn't _pleasant_ seeing his foe struggling, that was for sure - though he couldn't fathom why he felt this way.

Maybe Rafe was right, and he was too much of a goody-two shoes. But Nathan didn't mind being like this - it made him feel human, or at least compassionate enough to look at someone trapped and think, _'Hey, maybe I should get them out'_. It didn't bother him to give a shit, and he considered it a strength, rather than a weakness.

It wasn't wrong to care. In fact, he felt empowered when he had people to protect. And Rafe should count his lucky stars that Nathan had had that second thought, for without it, he'd be in pieces at the bottom of the sea at the moment, instead of being literally dragged to safety.

Again, not that gratitude was expected, but the facts remained the same.

"Hey, Nate," Sam's gravelly voice shook him from his thoughts. His brother nudged his head to the side, pointing towards Rafe. Nathan followed Sam's gaze to look at their burden, realizing that the man had gone limp.

Rafe's eyes were closed, blood dripping from his drooping head, and for a few panicked moments, Nathan thought he was dead. Come to think of it, it _would_ be just like Rafe to make them carry him and then die when he didn't feel like dealing with them anymore. But then Nathan noticed the very slight rise and fall of Rafe's chest, and felt the fluttering pulse through his wrist.

"Relax," Sam said, as if he could read his brother's mind, "he's just unconscious. Quieter like this - I prefer it."

"Yeah, can't say I mind either," Nathan replied with a smirk.

Sam returned the look, his eyes glimmering with mischief. But slowly, the light in the older man's eyes began to fade, and Sam turned his head to look behind them.

Nathan turned his head as well, gazing at the smoking, crumbled mess that once was Avery's proud vessel. The ship was in pieces now, much like his treasure; the gold was now lost to the sea, a visible metaphor to what a life playing cat-and-mouse would ensure.

Sam and Rafe were reminiscent of Avery and Tew, partners at first but consumed by greed and almost destroying each other in the end. Maybe it was just a stroke of luck that Rafe had dodged the treasure, but Nathan didn't _regret_ that the dick was alive. If a couple of dead pirates were anything to go off of, mutual greed did nothing but destroy both parties in the end. At least this way, Sam could possibly move on, too.

Nathan heaved a sigh. The future was blurry; he wasn't sure if Rafe's legs were permanently damaged, or if the bastard had enough money to get surgery to fix them. He didn't know if Rafe would go back to hunting them once he paid his hospital bills, or if there was an unspoken truce now between the three of them. Things were as hazy as the smoke rising from Avery's ship, the hopes and dreams of two men in particular going up in a blaze.

It truly was a fitting end to Henry Avery's legend - but thankfully, not an end for those chasing him.

"...damn it," Sam murmured to himself, a forlorn look in his eyes. He looked so utterly lost - like a little boy whose dreams had just been utterly crushed. "I don't know what to do now, Nate."

Nathan knew that feeling all-too-well; before he'd found his own clarity, he didn't know what life would be without hunting for lost civilizations and gold. Exploration was a part of who he was, after all; it always had been, and in a way, it always will be. But Elena helped change his views on life, and Sully was a big factor, and then when Sam came back into his life… suddenly, it was clear that things weren't all about him anymore, and he had others to care for now. If he was going to be a father someday, he had to recognize that he was growing older, more mature - and had to give up some of his past vices in exchange for something more valuable.

"That's the real adventure," Nathan simply said, shrugging one-shouldered. "Find something you like better than treasure."

Sam made a huffing noise that sounded like a small, stifled laugh. "Guess I have to take a lesson from you, for once," he said, a smile crossing his lips. The creases on his forehead relaxed and his eyes glimmered, his expression overall much less worried than it had been since they'd reunited. Nathan wondered if Sam was realizing he didn't have to take care of his little brother anymore - and for now, it might just be the other way around.

And of _course_ , Nathan would help Sam get back on his feet. And he'd attempt it with Rafe, too - metaphorically or physically. He'd keep trying until he saw progress with the two biggest fixated, egocentric _idiots_ in his life.

There were more important things than treasure. The sooner the men beside him realized that, the better. Maybe then, they could all move on.

After all, they started this whole treasure hunt as a group, and now - for better or for worse - they were walking away from it together, too.


End file.
